15. Chapter 15
15
Zara
W e all stared at the dark tunnel, and a second before I saw what emerged, Samuel slammed into me as he started to run, his face craned toward the tunnel entrance rather than watching where he was going.
I fell to the ground from the impact as two tigers raced into the arena. I scrambled to my feet as the other mortals scattered like disturbed ants. One tiger arced to the left, chasing down Adán, his dark suit a sharp contrast to the sandy arena. The other tiger shot straight for Eudoria in her black and white dress. The keys played a disturbing melody as she ran. Heart racing, I stood still and considered my options. Everyone was running, save for Ivy and me.
“They’re only chasing the ones who run,” I said, moving nothing but my eyes and lips as I tracked the movements of the tigers. The tiger took down Adán, who screamed like a girl. I clenched my eyes shut and looked away. The other tiger, distracted by the moving targets, changed direction to chase after Tomas. Ivy lurched forward, but I hissed at her, “Don’t move.”
Tomas put on speed. He outpaced Samuel, so the tiger took down the slower man instead. But the giant cat didn’t destroy Samuel; he sank his claws into him and moved on.
The balding man rolled on the ground, clearly in intense pain. The other tiger had abandoned the broad-shouldered Adán and was now stalking Eudoria. My heart was threatening to seize—it was beating so fast—but so far, the tigers hadn’t come for me or Ivy. I remained still, difficult as it was when I felt like prey.
A tomato hit the sand between Ivy and me and splattered. I glanced up at the stands. The fae were booing.
“Come on! You’re supposed to run!” They were shouting. “It’s no fun if you stand there! Run, little mortals, run!”
The blond-haired fae that had been in the arena with us was pointing and laughing at the man rolling on the ground in pain, blood streaming down his back. I couldn’t hate them any more than I hated them in that moment. Our death was their sport. Our pain was their thrill.
I picked up the remains of the flattened tomato and flung the juicy dripping contents back toward the stands. Only the smallest bit of tomato flopped uselessly onto the first bench in the stands. But the point was made. Several of the fae went silent, and the blond man stood, accepting something from Erik beside him. Then he curled his arm backward and launched something toward us. I was only aware that it was a plum right before it hit me in the nose.
I went down again, clutching my bleeding nose. I screamed in pain and anger at the purple plum in the sand beside me. The tiger turned his attention toward me. Cupping my bleeding nose with one hand, I stared down the tiger as I hopped to my feet. Sand poured off my dress and stuck to my sweaty skin.
“Run!” the creatures in the stands were shouting. “We want to see you run!”
But I wasn’t going to give them what they wanted. The tiger eyed me with curiosity, its shoulders rolling back and forth as it stalked closer and closer. Ivy began to breathe heavily, but she didn’t move either. The tiger flicked its attention toward her. On instinct, I kicked sand toward the animal’s face. It flinched and turned aside, loping after someone else.
“Thank you,” Ivy whispered, clasping her hands over her mouth as she heaved.
One tiger swatted at Eudoria, then flinched and scampered away when its claws met the tinkling piano keys. Internally, I cheered at the stupid fae’s outfit. After the tigers chased Tomas and Samuel a little longer, they lazily walked back down the tunnel they had entered. My posture drooped as a relieved breath whooshed from my lungs.
Pressing my palm to my sore nose, I managed to slow the bleeding, but my face ached from the impact of the plum. I might have black eyes tomorrow. I stepped on the plum with my heel and squished it into the sand.
“Thank you,” Ivy said, stepping toward me. “I…owe you for that.”
“You don’t owe me for anything,” I said, shaking my head.
“I know you don’t want to bow to them,” she whispered, leaning closer. “I don’t either, not when I might die in a couple of days. What if…would you want to work together? We could help each other in the next trial and buy each other another month?”
It sounded like a reasonable idea, so I offered a faint nod, simultaneously sensing that I’d pay for helping Ivy today. The fae in the stands were angry, their frustration palpable in the air as they jeered at us, hurling insults I’d never heard before.
The tigers had attacked Adán and Samuel and Tomas, leaving each of the men bleeding from scratches of varying severity, but Adán had received the worst injury. He lay in the sand, moaning. Tomas rushed past me.
“Help me get him up,” he called to all of us.
Samuel moved to help, but his left arm was bleeding, and he kept his right hand pressed to the wound. I moved toward the man sprawled in the sand. Tomas glanced up at me and nodded, then his attention dropped back to Adán. Together, we lifted him into a sitting position, and Tomas slid his arms under the man’s wide chest, helping him stand. With Tomas’s help, Adán was able to shuffle toward the stone steps leading from the arena. Samuel followed close behind, blood dripping from between his fingers.
As I watched them mount the steps into the stands, my attention snagged on a familiar face. At some point during the commotion, Casimiro had appeared. He was sitting in a shaded throne carved from the mountain wall in the center of the stone benches, lounged back with his legs angled wide. He lifted a glass when he noticed me staring.
I grunted and turned aside.
“I thought they couldn’t kill us except in the trials,” I said to Ivy, who was visibly shaking. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the heir stand and walk not up, but down the stone steps, into the arena.
Ivy scurried to my side. “They’ll heal the injuries. They always do. They want us to love them, remember? It’s best to just leave now.”
I watched the prince slip into one of the darkened tunnels where the tigers had disappeared.
Ivy tugged my arm. “Never linger here,” she warned. “They might get bored and release something else.”
I walked toward the stairs, my eyes following the prince’s outline as he sank into the shadows of the tunnel leading off the arena floor. Curiosity halted my steps, despite Ivy’s rapid protests.
“What’s he doing in there?” I asked.
Ivy shook her head and pulled on my arm. “I’m not sure, but he goes in there a lot. Come on, let’s go.”
My brows shot up. “You aren’t curious?” At Ivy’s repeated head shake, I said, “Well, I am. The more I know about him, the less power he has over me.”
At that, Ivy blinked and let go of my arm, her face pale. “If you’re that curious, come back later,” Ivy begged, “when he’s gone. You could go when the sun slants into the tunnel. It’ll be safer.”
Her words had a ring of wisdom. I backed up, nodding. “The sun dampens their power, doesn’t it?”
She nodded back. “They are not one of the original four fae courts. They created this court by stealing power from both daylight and darkness. They are hated by three of the other four courts, so they hide in this mountain, outside the border of Rivenmark.”
“We’re not in the fae lands?”
Ivy shook her head. “This mountain is in Avencia.”
“I’ve never seen these mountains on any Avencian maps,” I replied.
“That’s because this place has always been hidden by their magic. It exists only in shadow.”
I pondered this as I collected my shoes, then rejoined Ivy at the foot of the stairs.
“What do you mean they stole power?” I asked, accepting Ivy’s arm as she looped it under my own. As we ascended, I used my free hand to dust the sand off my dress, arms, and chest. Grit rubbed uncomfortably in my bosom and clung to my hairline. I longed for a bath.
Ivy kept her voice low as she replied. “According to the fae’s own histories, the courts were gifted with power, each from a different source. Sun, moon, stars, and then night. Each draws from a source of light, except for night.” She pursed her lips. “But there was an uprising among some powerful nobles in the Sun and Night Courts, and they split off to form this court.”
My mind spun, racing in time with my still-thundering heart. A dozen questions rose to the surface, but I was most curious about one thing. “Created?” Each year at Leor’s renowned festival, priests or sages from the various religions of Avencia set up booths and attempted to convert listeners to their ways. I’d heard a handful of creation stories; some had made me laugh out loud to the derision of the storyteller, while others had left me feeling empty or worse, unworthy. I’d always assumed there was one true version of history, and that no one really had it right.
My father had never been religious, which made sense now that I thought of the way the bargain had affected him, but it had been a source of contention among the nobles in Leor. Fortunately, my father’s wealth turned their prejudices away for the most part, which only further cemented my reasoning that those people couldn’t possibly hold all the right answers, if they tossed out their own convictions for the sake of rubbing shoulders with a gentleman of higher standing.
Ivy cleared her throat, a small, high-pitched sound. “Do you know the story?” she asked, concern coating her words.
“I’ve heard plenty of stories that attempt to explain the creation of the world, but not many that explain the creation of magic or fae or any of this.” I waved my arm.
The fierce mountain breeze struck us as soon as we exited the natural bowl in the mountainside that held the arena. My sand-laden curls whipped into my face, and I stopped to rub grit from my eyes.
Ivy clutched her arms around her bare shoulders and hurried up the steps. When we reached the platform where a door led into the mountain, I stopped and looked back at the sunny sky.
In a few moments, it would touch my skin. I hated the cold, but I missed the sun. I wanted to wait and feel its rays on my face. “I’m not ready to go back in yet,” I told Ivy.
The side of the mountain dropped off beneath us, and jagged, rocky cliffs stretched between me and any escape route. I walked to the edge of the small balcony and peered over the side. The face of the mountain curved around, creating the small bowl where the arena sat deep in shadow for most of the day.
The cold breeze carried the faint mineral scent of water. To my left, mist rose from one of the crevices in the mountain wall, right below a long row of windows. That must be our hallway. From here, the massive waterfall appeared small as it spilled in a thin veil down the mountainside, disappearing into a ravine.
I smiled over my shoulder at Ivy. “You can see the waterfall from here.”
Ivy scurried over but didn’t come too close to the edge. “I’m afraid of heights,” she said, her olive skin paling.
With a chuckle, I leaned out over the edge of the balcony so far that my feet left the ground.
“Zara!” Ivy grabbed the fabric of my dress and pulled me back.
“I wasn’t going to fall,” I said. Once again, I tipped forward on my hands, my hips balanced on the balustrade.
“I don’t like it. It makes me nervous,” Ivy said, chewing on her lip.
“It feels good to hold my life in my own hands,” I replied, although that wasn’t exactly true. The position was uncomfortable, and I slid my feet back down to the ground and spun to lean against the balcony railing. I lifted my chin and tried to see the top of the mountain, but the sky was so bright behind the peak that it was difficult to look at. Soon, the sun would crest the summit and pour light into this valley.
“My father taught me to never let others control me.” A dry chuckle escaped my throat. “Ironic considering his bargain controlled my life. He’s a wealthy man, and he’s used to people attempting to manipulate him. He knew men would be tempted by my inheritance, so he warned me to watch out for false declarations of love. In reality, I think he believed that true love would end his bargain and set me free. He’s a romantic at heart, though he hides it well. I, too, was convinced that falling in love would undo my curse, like it did in so many stories.” I shook my head. “I was wrong, but I learned something valuable about myself: the drive to find a solution kept me from sinking into despair over what was to come. But I was terrible at avoiding the bad men,” I admitted, my shoulders sinking at the memory of too many mistaken loves.
She averted her eyes and bobbed her chin. “My mother made a bargain for my life,” she admitted, “but after I was born. When I was five years old, I fell gravely ill. She’d always believed the stories of the First and Last, the gifter of magic, but when she called on the powers of the fae, she refused the first bargain, which was offered by a man she described as shining like moonlight. He’d offered to save my life in return for making me hideously ugly. Another had apparently offered to switch me out for a healthy fae child she could raise as her own. Yet another fae had offered to take us both into the fae realm, separating us into different cities. When the bargain was offered that I would live twenty years, healthy and well, in the human world with my parents, that was the deal she accepted.”
My face fell as she spoke, and when she finished, my eyes closed slowly. “Ivy…I’m—”
“We’re both here. Nothing to do about it now.”
“Not nothing. I refuse to die here. My father raised me to believe I could rule my own life. He taught me I should never bow to anyone, even knowing I would be here, that I would become their slave.” I turned around and slapped my hand on the cold stone railing, gripping it so hard that my fingers hurt.
“Maybe he was preparing you for this.”
The chill air—or maybe the shock of her words—sent a quiet shiver through my body. She stood close enough to the railing to peer over the edge now, and she wrung her fingers together, clearly nervous.
“We’re both going to get out of here,” I said. Ivy shot me a skeptical glance. “We’re going to make it. We’re going to survive this week, next week, and all of the trials they throw at us. And when our year is over, they’ll let us go.”
Her lips pinched. “Maybe you will.”
“Don’t say that. We both will. We can entertain them with our lives just as easily as we can entertain them with our deaths. We have one week ahead of us, and we’re going to make the most of it.” I gripped her forearms, clutching tighter than I intended to. “They may be immortal, but they still have weaknesses, and I intend to find out what they are.”
The sun broke over the mountain peak and bright, warm rays poured over my skin. I closed my eyes and lifted my palms at my sides. “Right now, I am more powerful than they are.”
When I opened my eyes, Ivy was staring at me with one brow arched.
“I mean it,” I said, turning away from her doubtful expression. “They don’t want to come outside in the daylight, which means they’ll have other weaknesses. I will find them. And with each weakness I find, I’ll gain more power to fight them. Two can play this game.”
“So you plan to use their weakness to defeat them?” She folded her arms across her thin frame. “Sounds too familiar.”
I wheezed as those words hit me like a punch. “They’re immortal, Ivy. It’s not like I can kill them. But maybe I can learn something that will keep me alive.”
“‘Maybe I can learn something isn’t a solid survival plan, Zara.”
My lips twitched at her stance and tone. She reminded me so much of Talia, calling out my ludicrous notions. “Fine. You’re right. It’s a terrible plan. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to see for myself what’s in those tunnels.” I held up a finger to silence Ivy’s sputtered protests. “Because they can’t kill me outside of a trial.” Her face lit up. “And if I find where they keep their monsters, maybe I can also discover how to defeat them. I don’t know, bring the tigers some meat from my next dinner or something.” I shrugged, and Ivy covered a surprised chuckle with her hands.
“You’re crazy,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“Well, I’m not going to die. I refuse.”
Ivy chuckled, but her excitement quickly petered out. “I’ll do my best to help you when the trial arrives. Until then, my best advice is to stay as far from the fae as you can.”
She turned and slipped through the door.
“The trouble with that,” I said once the heavy door had shut behind her, “is that in combat, you need to know where to strike.” My weapons instructor had taught me that.
And before I could change my mind, I turned back toward the arena and hurried down the sunlit steps.